


A Game of Gazes

by KelseyinWonderland



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Smut, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Pining Draco Malfoy, Pining Harry Potter, Slow Burn, Soft Draco Malfoy, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 17:55:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18856102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelseyinWonderland/pseuds/KelseyinWonderland
Summary: Draco and Harry both return to Hogwarts for their 8th year hoping to gain different things after spending the summer taking a personal inventory of themselves. When Harry is drawn to a softer and less rigid Malfoy, he can't keep himself from his old habits and finds himself seeking him out....through various moments of gazing at one another, and irrational decisions too engage in conversation the boys end up bonding through novels and Harry learns what created the softer, more thoughtfully spoken Malfoy, and of course love ensues.**I do want to note that I was inspired a lot by "Call Me By Your Name" by, André Aciman. However, I definitely tried to write it in a way that wouldn't prohibit anyone who hasn't read the book or seen the movie from understanding the references! If you haven't seen the movie, or more importantly read the book you definitely should it is so achingly amazingly beautiful!! **





	A Game of Gazes

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first attempt at writing Fan Fiction, I have put a lot of time and effort into creating a life that I thought I wanted for myself and over the last 2 years have slowly and painful realized that the life I thought I wanted wasn't at all what it seemed. I'm sure a lot of you can relate to this, and what it's like to have to slowly pick up the pieces of your life and examine them. I've just really begun living and loving life again after a lot of hard choices, and I could not be happier. With that being said, and a very long introduction later :) writing it always something I've been passionate about, just never brave enough to really immerse myself in. My goal is to eventually try my hand at writing a novel, but I wanted to start with something I really know and love which is fan fiction, and not just any fan fiction but Harry, and Draco. I've been reading as a fan for probably the last 12 years which seems like forever! My favorite Draco is the soft Draco who is completely smitten with Harry, and this is my take on that...I welcome all the feedback, I'm just starting to figure out how to do dialogue and characterization, and all the things really haha! 
> 
> Thank you for reading, seriously!!

Draco Malfoy was surprisingly keen to sit in the 8th year common room gazing at ‘boy wonder;’ Harry Potter, head thrown back in a carefree laugh at something Weasley had said. Draco was of course tucked away, not as keen to be caught in his own carefree staring. Not that he really cared what anyone thought of him anyways, the war had changed many things about Draco, maybe it had made him softer, but a subtle arrogance would always remain. 

Since the war and his return to Hogwarts, he found that he liked to spend his spare moments watching Potter. Well, not so much watching him, he wasn’t a stalker. But he liked looking at him, especially, in his relaxed moments like this, laughing. Draco couldn’t really remember the last time he laughed, really laughed, especially like that; head thrown back, tears sneaking out of the corners of his eyes, making Potter’s eyes a particularly brilliant shade of green. Not that ‘brilliant’ is a word Draco would normally use to describe someone he had spent most of his life hating. 

Though, hate was not really a word he would use to describe his feelings towards Potter anymore. The war had changed everyone, as war typically does, and it had taken its toll on Draco especially. Though it’s not as if anyone really noticed. Draco was one of the only Slytherins’ to return to Hogwarts for their 8th year. Many of his former classmates had chosen to continue forward and start their lives in other countries, or to just begin their careers. While others were still busy mending aching hearts and broken families. Therefore, no one really spared a glance towards him; Draco Malfoy reformed death eater. 

Draco felt that returning to Hogwarts was really the only way for him to begin to move forward properly, with his father in Azkaban and his mother on house arrest, he needed to get out and away from all the things that reminded him of the horrible things he endured the last year and of all the reasons why he shouldn’t carry on. He wanted to give his mother someone to believe in and be proud of, and he wanted to be that for himself as well. He had put his faith in the wrong people from the beginning and been indoctrinated to look at life a certain way. The last year had been full of painful lessons that left memories he didn’t think would ever fade, and he was determined to make them mean something. In the past Draco would have been loud, he would have wanted to make it known he was there, always the one with the upper hand, always the one with something to say even when it was wrong. This is why when he boarded the Hogwarts express to embark on his 8th and final year of school, he decided to stay silent. 

It wasn’t as if he wanted anyone to notice his silence, or even his return to school. In fact, going unnoticed is what made it so easy to engage in his new favorite past time, gazing at Potter. Due to engaging in his hobby so frequently helped Draco to notice that Potter had become quiet as well. Draco found himself thinking that quiet looked good on Potter, not that he thought Potter looked good of course.  
___

 

Old habits die hard Harry thought to himself as he gave a quick glance over towards Malfoy tucked into one of the over-stuffed armchairs in the corner of the 8th year common room. Not that he really cared about his old habits. Since the war Harry had learned to be more accepting of himself, he was now more than ever of course, only human. He reasoned with himself, that if he liked to glance over at Malfoy every now and then that there was really nothing wrong with that. 

Of course, Harry noticed Malfoy’s changed demeanor. Malfoy seemed more calm, more sure of himself than he ever had before. Harry seemed to think that this looked good on Malfoy, not that he thought Malfoy looked good. Although he did like glancing at him, especially in moments like this, curled into the arm chair with a book in his lap, brow furrowed in concentration a slight flush to his checks immersed in whatever world the book provided him. Harry couldn’t remember the last time he had really felt swept up in something since the war ended, but he liked the idea of being able to escape and he suspected Malfoy did too which is why whenever Harry glanced over in Malfoy’s direction there seemed to be a new volume tucked into his lap. 

Malfoy’s change didn’t really surprise him, it didn’t really seem to surprise anyone actually, not that anyone else seemed to really notice Malfoy like he did. At least Hermione had mentioned as much when he brought up the subject a few weeks into the start of term. “Have you noticed how different Malfoy seems, I don’t think I’ve heard him speak since we arrived?” He said before taking a bite of toast and glancing down towards Malfoy at the 8th year dining table. “Honestly, Harry I think you’re the only one that pays him any mind at all,” Hermione said with a knowing look. Harry’d been less keen to bring it up after that. Not wanting to draw attention to his old habit however accepting of himself he’d become. 

Instead Harry had taken to stealing glances of Malfoy here and there. He even noticed that sometimes when he was inconspicuously, he thought at least, stealing a glance at Malfoy that Malfoy was looking back at him. Most of these moments usually ended abruptly with both parties quickly glancing away nervous at being caught by the other. However, more recently Malfoy had become keen to continue staring back at Harry until he began to feel hot and his cheeks darken in color and that a magnet was pulling his eyes away from Malfoy’s in confusion. Usually these moments also ended with Malfoy standing from his book nook in the corner of the common room and heading towards the dormitories up the stairs. Harry knew this because, that same magnet that pulled his eyes away from Malfoy was the same one that drew him back to watch him walk away. 

In these times where Harry watched Malfoy walk away and disappear up the stairs he was also drawn to Malfoy’s new sense of style. This new wardrobe was a stark contrast to the slim lines and dark contours of Malfoy’s previous posh attire. Malfoy now often donned muted untailored clothing. It made Malfoy seem comfortable, almost approachable which is not a way Harry ever thought he would describe a person he used to think he hated. 

Though, hate was not a word Harry would use to describe his feelings towards Malfoy anymore. The war had changed everyone, in different ways of course. Harry knew that this new Malfoy was just another after effect of the war though, to be fair it was an after effect he didn’t mind. And watching him, not really watching, glancing, yes, glancing at him in those unguarded moments helped to make Harry feel calm as well. So, he vowed not to be too hard on himself, because they were all only human. 

___  
Draco had been caught locking eyes with Potter, more frequently as of late. He also found that he caught himself seeking Potter out more often than he cared to admit. Which meant spending a lot of time tucked away in his corner of the common room. He couldn’t fully understand what he had done to earn the lazy smile of ‘wonder boy’ Potter, it made him feel overwhelmed, but in a way that had him craving the interaction habitually. Of course, it typically ended with Potter’s reddened cheeks and bright eyes casting downwards and Draco feeling so inundated with foreign feelings that he had to retreat back up to his room out of breath. 

And so, this old habit they both had of obsessing over one another became renewed. Draco knew he spent as much time thinking of Potter as potter spent thinking of him. He wasn’t stupid, he knew their old rivalry went beyond that of childish jealousy and hatred. What he and Potter shared was special, and always had been even in the strange twisted way their relationship existed. 

It never really dawned on Draco to try and speak to Potter. Conversation wasn’t really something Draco was partaking in recently. Partly due to the fact that most of the other students chose to ignore his presence and partly due to his decision to stay more still more discreet. However, Potter took their game of gazing at one another to the next level one afternoon as they both exited charms class at the same time. Weasley and Granger glanced back at Potter an unspoken ‘you coming?’ written on both of their faces. Potter apparently well versed in both their languages said something wordlessly back that was enough to satisfy them, and they headed on their way, leaving ‘boy wonder’ alone with him. 

When they both had disappeared beyond the door, Potter turned to him. “Malfoy,” he gave Draco a curt nod as if to acknowledge his presence there before proceeding. “I wanted to ask you about those books you’re always reading up in the common room.” Draco’s face was open as he took in his words, intrigued that Potter was openly acknowledging their game of glancing at one another, and he quirked his eyebrow in response to Potter’s almost question. Draco assumes he takes his silence as an invitation to elaborate, and so he continues on, “well I was thinking of taking up a new hobby and thought you might have a recommendation for me?” he concedes with a shrug of his shoulders as if to say he doesn’t know where any of this is coming from either. Draco quirks his eyebrow a little more before tilting his head to the side and responding, “Why would you deprive Granger of such a task Potter, I’m sure she would be more than willing to list about 100 books that might intrigue the savior.” Draco internally cringes at his crass tone and wills himself to have more tact. Potter cringes a little too, but like the golden boy he is recovers easily, “Yes, of course but Hermione might be more keen on recommending books useful to studying for exams, and I quite like your idea of escaping off into a book that might take me somewhere else for a while, yeah?” 

Draco only falters for a moment. It’s not that he’s taken aback by Potters confession of a desire to escape, it’s just that he was only beginning to grow accustomed to the conversation, and his conversationalist skills have been lacking as of late. Draco thinks for a moment of his craving for more of Potter before he says, “I might have something, just depends on the kind of escape your looking for Potter” the quirk in his eyebrow back full force. 

Then potter does something that completely catches Draco off guard, he full on grins at him. The toothy, eyes bright, cheeks flushed kind of grin that leaves Draco with that overwhelmed feeling that typically leaves him with a desire to retreat. “Great Malfoy, I’ll find you in the common room later, you choose the escape.” And just like that Potter, and his grin have slipped out of the door leaving Draco to contemplate exactly how he had gotten into this predicament in the first place. 

___

Harry wonders what’s come over him as he exits the charms room and hurries to catch up with Ron and Hermione after charms class. He knows he’ll find them in the dining hall for lunch as Ron is nothing if not dedicated to meal times. Harry spends his walk wondering if breaching the reticent relationship, he has shared with Malfoy of late with words was a mistake. It’s only that he finds a soothing comfort in knowing he can look up in the common room over to Malfoy’s nook and see him at ease absorbed into an alternate reality, or even look up into that corner only to find silver eyes gazing back at him and be reminded that some things never change. 

Harry was hesitant to rupture the balance the two had seemed to contrive within the first couple of months at school, but he was even more eager for more. Harry knew he had to do something when he found himself spending much more time than he’d like to admit thinking about what Malfoy might be reading, or what he might think about in his spare time, or why he vanished off to his room every time their game became too much. His craving and his curiosity in the new relaxed Malfoy was stronger than his fear of tipping the balance on what they currently had, which Harry didn’t even truly know how to define. 

This is what came over him that day after charms class. He had been stealing glances over at Malfoy for most of the class, so much so that Hermione made a point to let him know how obvious he was being with her knowing look and a nudge of his elbow. After that he knew he needed to just talk to him. Malfoy was a person after all, and he knew that he wasn’t stupid. Malfoy had been just as involved in this game as Harry had, and therefore who was to say that he wasn’t craving more as well. 

Afterwards, Harry was shocked by both his own audacity and tact, as well as Malfoy’s willingness. Or at least Harry was choosing to take Malfoy’s apt sarcasm as acquiescence. He began to realize that while he liked the new game of glancing that they engaged in, he also missed the repartee they often engaged in before they were both thrown into adulthood. Today had given him a taste of it, and he realized he was looking forward to more. 

___

Draco spends the rest of the day agonizing over which of the books in his swiftly growing collection he should share with Potter. He thinks it’s interesting because he’s never thought of loaning someone a book as something so intimate before. However, he’s never really had the opportunity to share his books with anyone until now either. During his time at home after the war Draco found he needed something, a distraction from everything going on around him. His father’s trial and watching him be shipped off to Azkaban, his mother’s numerous and dubious coping mechanisms, and flitting around a house that was more reminiscent of a prison than the place where he grew up, despite his mother’s best efforts. 

So, Draco turned to books. The manor of course had an extensive library, which gave him the initial inspiration for his quest for escape. Of course, the manor library had more informational texts on ancient magic, and artifacts than actual novels, which led him to the muggle library where his journey really took off. He found himself reading through several books in a week, it became his one solace, it helped to calm him, and it taught him a lot about himself and the kind of person he wanted to be. Naturally, the coping mechanism of escape followed him to Hogwarts as his collection of worlds steadily grew, and now he needed to choose a world to share with Potter. 

A lot of Draco’s books had elements of war, and he wasn’t sure that was something Potter would really see as an escape as much as Draco had. Although these books gave Draco a look at two perspectives and helped to break down a lot of the indoctrinated beliefs, he had never had a choice in, he knew that’s not what Potter needed. Potter needed an actual escape, to look inside the mind of someone else and see what it felt like to live there for a while. And with that thought, he knew which book he had in mind and even though he was semi-confidant that it would be a good fit he still found himself nervously chewing his lip in the common room tucked into his usual arm chair nervously awaiting the moment Potter would flop himself down across from him with that wide grin asking which escape Draco had chosen for him. 

___

Harry looked down at the book in Draco’s outstretched hand, “I Am the Messenger” Harry stated aloud like a question. “Oh, good Potter, you can still read” Malfoy says with the roll of his eyes, “look, if you don’t want it, I’m sure…” he begins looking hesitant and a little dejected. “NO!” Harry starts a little too loudly…”no, no, I’m sure this is great, yeah?” he finishes with a curt nod, feeling anxious. Harry looks around, then back at Malfoy who is peering up at him from his arm chair looking a little timid? Draco Malfoy looking timid? This is uncharted territory for both of them Harry thinks, and it makes him feel a little more settled. Feeling bold he lifts the corner of his mouth in a half smile, “this seat taken?” he jerks his thumb at the chair across from him. Malfoy’s eyes widen a little as if taken aback by his question, “uh, yeah, no I mean, any seats available to the savior of the wizarding world isn’t it?” Harry rolls his eyes at Malfoy and sits down; this is new for both of them so he’s willing to cut Malfoy some slack on politeness. 

Harry glances over to the sofa in front of the fire where Harry normally sits with Ron and Hermione. Ron is giving him a look that reads, ‘what the hell are you on about mate?’ and he can already picture Hermione’s knowing look, so he avoids her gaze altogether. He looks back towards Ron, gives him a shoulder shrug, chances one more look over at Malfoy who seems to be engrossed in his own book before opening the one in front of him and beginning to read. 

Now, if Harry is truly being honest with himself, he can’t ever remember a time he truly read a book for pleasure. Unless you count smuggled school books read by wand light in secrecy at his aunt and uncles house in the summertime. Or the history of quidditch volume Hermione got him for Christmas one year. But a book like this, a novel with made up worlds and characters, well that’s always been Hermione’s avenue, not his. Which is probably why Ron thinks he’s gone mental. If Harry’s really, truly being honest with himself it’s not really the need of a new hobby that had him asking Malfoy for a book suggestion, it wasn’t even really Malfoy’s change in demeanor either. It genuinely had everything to do with the way Malfoy looked when was engaged in whatever fictional world he’d chosen that day. Harry wanted to know what that kind of escape felt like. Harry wasn’t unhappy in his own life, in fact he was probably happier than he had been for a long time, but he couldn’t deny the part of him that sometimes wished he could take a break from being the ‘savior’, and walk in someone else’s shoes for even just a moment. 

Of course, being someone who before that moment couldn’t really fathom reading for pleasure had him skeptical at first, but one glance up at Malfoy was all the encouragement he needed. Malfoy had his knees pulled up to his chest with his book nestled between his chest and his knees, lip pulled between his teeth, and his brows knitted together in concentration. Harry glanced down at his book and smiled a little to himself, before he pulled it open and began to immerse himself into the escape Malfoy had chosen for him. 

___

Malfoy tried, he really did try to remain focused on his own escape from reality, but the temptation to look at Potter’s reactions were too strong. He tried to causally lift his gave from the page of his book to glance at Potter and was met with a sight that left him feeling bewildered in a way he really couldn’t understand. Potter’s eyes were wide, his grip on the book in his lap was tight, and he was gnawing on his bottom lip as if his life depended on it. Draco looked down at Potter’s book and noticed that he had read quite a bit of the book already and then hastily wondered what time it was, and how long he had spent trying to talk himself out of looking up at Potter. 

Draco glanced over at the window and realized the sun had set and when he looked back around the common room it was mostly empty. He briefly made eye contact with Granger who gave him a perceptive half smile, which he returned with wide eyes and quickly averted his gaze that  
briefly drifts over a snoring Weasley head resting in Granger’s lap. When his eyes come back to Potter, he realizes he is still fully immersed in and invested in the story in front of him. Draco almost begins to let himself feel a sense of pride in the novel he’s chosen for Potter as he obviously likes it, but the feeling doesn’t last long. Ultimately Draco lets his anxiety swallow him, and the fear of the intimacy of sharing this world with Potter. Wondering if Potter will like the same parts as Draco, or what he will think of the ending…it’s too much. Draco instantly gets to his feet gathers up his own book, and without a second glance back at Potter disappears up to his dormitory to fret without the looming eyes of other’s over whether or not potter will approve of one of Draco’s acquired worlds. 

___

Draco doesn’t really sleep that night, but when he wakes up the next morning it’s with a new vigor. So what if Potter doesn’t like his book, what does it matter to Draco? Draco vowed to be more silent this year, not so that he wouldn’t be heard but so that he could listen more. If potter didn’t like his chosen escape, perhaps he would consider giving him another chance to share one of his worlds with him. Honestly, Draco didn’t know what had come over him. The polite indifference that turned into a chess match of glances was one thing but seeking Potter’s approval on something Draco valued most in his life right now was really setting him on edge. Which is why when Potter plopped himself down next to Draco at breakfast that morning, he was beginning to think he would lose his mind. 

Draco peered at Potter with his usual arched brow inviting Potter to explain his unexpected presence. “Mornin Malfoy,” Potter stated as he pulled two pieces of toast onto his plate and began lathering them with butter. “Good morning Potter, it appears you’ve lost your way. Granger and Weasley are down there” he says with the wave of his hand and a slight roll of his eyes. Malfoy internally chastises himself at being so uncouth, but he can’t help it something about Potter just catches him off guard. Potter rolls his eyes to, though with a slight quirk to his lips, “I know, but I wanted to talk to you about The Messenger.” At this Potter looks up at Draco and gray meet green. Draco hesitates for a moment…” you didn’t like it, well look, I have a lot of other books…” Draco begins slightly exasperated but in a timid way the brings a full smile to Potter’s lips. “No, Malfoy, that’s just it, I really actually like it a lot. I’m almost finished.” Draco looks back up at potter with wide eyes, “Really?” he says tentatively. “Yeah, I have to be honest I’ve never been much of a reader,” Draco gains a little bit of his arrogance back “Oh what a revelation Potter, tell me something none of us already knew” but he says it without malice and a half smirk on his lips. “Oh, shut up Malfoy!” Potter says with the full lipped grin he had graced Draco with only last night, “anyways, I was going to say I didn’t know reading could really be like that you know? But I really, really enjoyed it and I’m hoping you’re up to the challenge once I’m finished with this one, yeah?” Draco tries to hide the slight leap in his chest, he doesn’t know why he feels so thrilled at the idea of choosing another book for Potter from his collection, but he suspects it has something to do with the fact that Draco shared a part of himself with another person, and they didn’t immediately reject him. It also could be the fact that their game of glances just accelerated to the next level, but Draco wasn’t willing to openly admit to himself just what that meant to him yet. 

___

Harry wasn’t willing to fully admit it to himself yet, but he knew deep down that he was addicted to being near Malfoy. He was finding more and more excuses to be around him even if he couldn’t always justify them to himself, Malfoy, or Hermione and Ron. For the past few weeks Harry had spent his evenings in the common room curled up in the overstuffed arm chair across from Malfoy reading one of the various books he had selected for him. Harry realized that while he did love getting lost in the storyline and leaving his own world behind him for a little while, it was really the conversations with Malfoy that he craved. After Harry finished one of the books Malfoy would always ask what he thought and they would share their thoughts and ideas, and Malfoy really listened to him. Not only that, but he found that he really enjoyed listening to Malfoy, he always had really good insight and made Harry think about the characters or the storyline in new and interesting ways. So now not only was Harry addicted to exploring new worlds that he could lose himself in, he was also addicted to listening to Malfoy’s thoughts and seeing if they aligned with his own. 

Before he really knew what was happening Harry was inviting Malfoy to sit with him, and Hermione and Ron at meals. And before he could even stop himself to think about how stupid it was to invite him, Malfoy accepted. Harry was beginning to realize that maybe he wasn’t the only one addicted to their conversations and their time together. Maybe Malfoy was just as amiable as Harry was to this newfound friendship. 

Before long it wasn’t just meals, it was studying in the common room, and walks near the black lake. Harry found himself pleased that Malfoy seemed to fit in okay amongst them. Of course, Hermione was the most agreeable to the whole thing, and Harry knew that because of this Ron would at least accept it despite his objections and reservations. Harry actually found that Hermione and Malfoy seemed to get along quite well, they both shared an aptitude for studying and seemed to have the same taste in literature. Harry at times even found himself a little jealous listening to the two of them engage in discussions about books Harry had never even heard of, which truly only encouraged his digestion of books, only so Harry could be the one Malfoy turned to for those discussions. 

Harry knew the relationship he shared with Draco was unlike the one he shared with Hermione or Ron. He knew that their relationship had always been different. He wasn’t stupid, he knew their old rivalry went beyond that of childish jealousy and hatred. What he and Malfoy shared was special, and always had been even in the strange twisted way their relationship existed. Only now, it felt different in a way that Harry couldn’t quite understand. He only knew that he was addicted to being near Malfoy, and when he wasn’t near him, he spent his time thinking of ways or reasons to be near him. 

___

 

The night of the Halloween feast Granger and Weasley made plans to spend some time alone, leaving Potter alone with Draco. The two boys decided to spend the evening after the feast reading up in the common room in front of the fire. Draco had already situated himself into his new nook in the corner of the overstuffed sofa by the fire and was just beginning to become lost in the book wedged in his lap when Potter flopped down directly next to him. With a sigh Potter propped his socked feet up on the table in front of him and pulled some of Draco’s blanket over onto his own lap and began to read “Stardust,” Draco’s latest prescribed escape. 

Draco couldn’t pretend he wasn’t mad for Potter’s attention; he spent more time analyzing each predicament he found himself in with Potter than actually engaging in his own book as Potter was doing next to him. Draco knew the interest he had entertained only a mere moment ago in the book settled in his lap was gone the moment Potter flopped himself down next to him. At this last contemplation Potter pulled his foot up into his lap and nestled into the sofa more comfortably pushing his thigh flush with Draco’s under the blanket, his blanket. 

Draco could feel his face beginning to flush when Potter didn’t immediately flinch his leg away, but instead let it rest there against Draco’s easily. Of course, Draco’s mind was in a commotion, and he was willing himself not to glance over to see Potter’s reaction. Alas, his petition to dissect Potter’s feelings won out and Draco peered slyly out of the corner of his eye in his direction. Potter had the appearance of someone completely immersed in the book they were reading, but Draco found it hard not to question his sincerity in the escape, especially while Draco was trying to elude a panic attack over the feel of Potter’s thigh against his own. 

The weight of Potter’s thigh should be trivial, it’s not as if Potter proposed marriage, not that Draco would want him to in the first place, or asked for the sacrifice of his first-born son. No, Potter had simply gotten comfortable on the sofa, as if Draco were his friend. It’s only Draco found it hard to understand how the savior of the wizarding world could want to be friends with someone like him; an ex-death eater. Of course, Draco had changed, even he could admit that to himself. He didn’t want to be associated with the ideal’s death eaters inculcated, that he even once claimed as his own. However, Draco had never, not once stated this to Potter, or to Granger and Weasley for that matter. And it’s not that Draco hadn’t thought about saying any of this to Potter, actually, Draco had spent a great deal of his free time recently agonizing about putting these feelings into words, and torturing himself with the idea that he didn’t really deserve any of the affection Potter had exhibited towards him lately. 

Draco’s anxiety and growing fondness for Potter made him bold, after all it hand only been a few months ago that this had all began as a game of gazes built from an old childhood rivalry. It was with this thought that Draco built the courage to ask Potter the question that had been plaguing him since he had first challenged Draco to choose his escape. 

___

 

Harry had barely been engaged in his latest Malfoy escape, not since he casually relaxed his thigh and left it flush against Malfoy’s. Harry couldn’t deny how drawn to Malfoy he actually was, and he was honestly way past disagreeing with the idea. And if he was being truly honest, he had been craving some sort of physical contact for a while now and he just couldn’t stop himself. Harry knew his face was beginning to flush in pleasure at the thought that Malfoy hadn’t flinched away from him. 

While Harry was bold in action, he was spending most of his time pretending to be completely engaged in reading his book agonizing over whether or not to try and steal a glance at Malfoy’s reaction to their physical contact. However, before Harry could push himself to peek over, he heard Malfoy clear his throat, giving Harry an actual excuse to look up from the novel he was supposed to be tied up in. 

“Why be friends with me, Potter?” Malfoy spoke in a low, soft declaration, glancing up at Harry with wide eyes. Harry met Malfoy’s gray gaze and returned his statement like question with a soft smile before speaking. “Why not, Malfoy?” he replied the soft smile still evident on his lips. Draco paused and looked into his eyes for what felt like years before speaking, making Harry’s soft smile falter in understanding. “I picked the wrong side…I did things,” Draco faltered and peered into his lap, but Harry dared not to speak, his face open with acceptance and in recognition of what Malfoy was endeavoring to accomplish. Malfoy looked back up into Harry’s eyes meaningfully, “I, I’m sorry Harry.” Harry thought to himself that Malfoy looked so timidly ardent in his statement making him feel an overwhelming fondness for the other boy in that moment. 

Harry didn’t dare break their gaze knowing that their intense game had again reached a new level. After several long moments of observing one another in silence Harry glanced down at Malfoy’s hands gently resting on top of the book in his lap. With only a moment of hesitation Harry lunged forward and pulled one of Malfoy’s hands into his own before speaking. “The war changed us all, I feel like I can’t even say for better or for worse, just differently.” He took a deep breath looking back up in Malfoy’s eyes before continuing, “It doesn’t matter to me who you were before this moment, and even then, who you were before this is what got us to this in the first place. What matters is now, we can’t ever go back only forward, and I like this forward…with you.” Harry quirks up his lips in an earnest half smile squeezing Malfoy’s hand before reluctantly letting go and returning his hands back to his own lap. 

___ 

After their discussion Halloween night, Draco mused that the two boys had become inseparable, not that he was complaining. Draco knew that his feelings towards Potter were unraveling at a pace quicker than he knew how to handle, let alone decipher, but he liked the way he felt too much to care. Draco noticed that Potter was finding new and more creative ways to touch him inconspicuously; a graze on the shoulder here, a brush of the arm there, and plopping down next to him much closer than necessary more often than not. Again, not that Draco was complaining. In fact, Potter’s boldness only seemed to embolden Draco who was only too keen to return Potter’s soft grazes, and brushes. 

Draco knew the feelings he felt for Potter went beyond that of a friend, even if he wasn’t willing to fully admit it to himself yet. However, his feelings were beginning to become so overwhelming and consuming that he felt sure he might suffocate from the crushing weight of his own turmoil. The truth was that Draco didn’t really know how he felt about the idea of fancying another bloke. It’s not as if Potter were the first, of course he knew he just hadn’t been faced with the idea full force and at such high velocity. Draco thought he might like the idea of escaping into a place where he could freely try on the idea without the weight of his own heart. Looking at the situation through the eyes of someone else became the only reasonable solution to his Potter problem, and so he knew it was time to add a new escape to his collection. 

___

Harry knew he was done for officially one evening a few weeks after their Halloween conversation. They were all in their usual spots when Harry came down from the dormitories; Hermione curled up in the arm chair nearest the fire with Ron on the ground propped up with his back against her chair, and Malfoy curled up into the corner of the sofa sincerely immersed in a book Harry hadn’t seen him with before. Harry stopped abruptly in his decent when his eyes reached Malfoy, bottom lip pulled between his teeth, brow scrunched up in concentration, cheeks flushed, and hair a tousled mess. ‘He looks beautiful,’ Harry thought immediately to himself. He had to full on remind himself to continue walking, but not wanting to do anything to pull Malfoy from the escape he was clearly absorbed in.  
Harry contemplated actually sitting on his side of the sofa so as not to disturb the other boy, reasoning that from that spot he could still peer over at Malfoy from his own book. However, the pull of his desire to feel the other boy’s warmth, and the chance at feeling his skin against his own was too strong to ignore. So, without a second thought he flopped himself down into the spot directly next to Malfoy, pulling some of his blanket into his own lap as always. Harry in a moment of audaciousness pulled Malfoy by the ankles and rested his feet in his lap, then pulled his book open and pretended he didn’t feel the heat in his cheeks, or the heat of Malfoy’s eyes on him. 

This was something friends did, right? Friends casually touched like this, didn’t they? He thought about Ron and Hermione, and then quickly tried to think about his own relationship with both Ron and Hermione separately, and not the relationship they shared with one another. He loved them both, they were more like family to him than friends, and truly he would do anything for either of them. Though the more he thought about it the more he reasoned with himself that he didn’t want to find any reason no matter how small to be this close to Ron or Hermione. Sure, he liked spending time with them, but did he try to find just any reason no matter how miniscule to be in their presence?...The answer he knew was, no. 

Harry began to realize that during his moment of inner contemplation he hadn’t even been pretending to read properly. He hadn’t even turned a page since he sat down, he had simply opened the novel and stared off into the page in a complete daze. He was afraid to look up at Malfoy, afraid that he might be looking over at him in confusion and even more afraid that he hadn’t looked over at all. Although, when he thought about that he thought about the fact that Malfoy hadn’t pulled his knees back up to his chest in an outraged huff or told him off in any way. In fact, Malfoy had left his feet right where Harry had placed them and had hardly moved an inch. 

He didn’t really know how he felt about Malfoy; this was true. But not an indifferent indecision, on the contrary his indecision was born from confusion. The confusion born from the fact that Harry knew he was quite mad for Malfoy, just not what that meant for him. Harry always kind of knew he might be into blokes; he was just never really into dating in general. He had pretty much spent the better part of his youth too focused on eliminating evil incarnate to really focus on anything remotely romantic. Which is why he had never really had the time to face the idea that he might very well be gay, and at this point he might actually very well be gay for Malfoy. 

___

Potter was making it very difficult to focus on the new escape he had chosen for himself, the amount of physical contact was overwhelming him to the point of no return. Literally, when Draco thought he could take no more, Potter began tracing circles on Draco’s right ankle. The ankle that was still resting in Potter’s lap, where Potter himself had placed it. Draco was finding it hard not to just gape, open mouthed and wide eyed at the boy across from him. However, Draco tried to close his eyes and regroup, he really wanted to focus on his new book, the escape he had chosen specifically to help himself make sense of the Potter feelings that seemed to do nothing but engulf and drown him, especially now. 

He felt a lot like Elio, from his alternate reality, he could relate to the way this character had quickly and without warning to himself become completely beguiled by someone who he thought didn’t even like him. The feelings of confusion, that Elio has in regard to the intoxicating exhilaration he feels when near Oliver are one’s that Draco could narrate without having to think too deeply about. It also doesn’t help that Potter has stopped rubbing circles on Draco’s ankle, and instead opted to just rest his hand there in a soft grip as if not touching him at all isn’t an option. Which is making it impossible to give his brain the clearance it needs to fully absorb the story in his lap, so instead he gives in to Potter. He closes his book, settles himself into the sofa more comfortably, closes his eyes and gives into the feeling of just letting himself be there in that moment with a boy that makes his chest hurt in the most addicting way. 

After a few moments he gets up the courage to peek his eyes open just to get a glimpse of boy wonder and gauge his reaction. Draco is of course met with green eyes peering back at him, dopey soft smile in place on the other boy’s lips making Draco’s face flush and his body warm. He decides to give in to his heart just a tiny bit, shut out the anxieties of his mind, and so he graces Potter back with a soft dopey smile of his own. Potter’s eyes go bright and his soft smile turns to a grin, he squeezes Draco’s ankle and both boys close their eyes just savoring the moment of being there with one another, no thoughts in the way. 

___

Harry hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Malfoy since…well if he was keeping himself in check, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Draco since the start of term when their eyes first met. But this felt different, Harry hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him in ways that made his cheeks hot, and his skin prickle. Of course, he still hadn’t really faced himself in terms of what it meant, only that he knew he relished in getting lost in how Malfoy made him feel. 

Which is why the fact that Malfoy appeared to have been dodging him all morning was turning that pleasant prickle into knots that multiplied in his gut. Harry didn’t see him in Charms class that afternoon, and he had dodged him at breakfast that morning making Harry begin to believe that Malfoy was actually avoiding him. On impulse, his urge to be near Malfoy made him elude Ron and Hermione on their way out of the Great Hall, and dart straight up to the 8th year common room in search of grey eyes and white blonde hair. 

“Pigwidgeon” Harry huffs at the portrait guarding the entrance, and rushes in eyes searching in earnest for a quiet boy curled up with a book. However, his search comes up empty and he begins to wonder where Malfoy might be if not there. His brain telling him almost annoyedly that Malfoy has truly spent most of his free time right here in this common room with him. Harry glances towards the spot on the sofa in front of the fire that usually holds a concentrated Malfoy but is now devoid of such boy. His eyes instead dart over to the staircase that leads up to the boy’s dormitories, and his heart begins to pound. 

Harry doesn’t know why he should feel nervous at the prospect of knocking on Malfoy’s door, it’s only just that, well, they’d never really ventured into one another’s rooms before. It felt like uncharted territory, that once charted would ultimately change everything between them. For this reason, Harry hesitated as he stood in front of the other boy’s door for a moment. Harry sucked in a breath, ‘I mean, what if he isn’t even here, then I’m panicking for no reason.’ He thought to himself. As he exhaled, he rose his hand up and knocked on Draco’s door before he could dwell too much on what the consequences might be, thinking that the consequences wouldn’t really matter in the long run anyways so long as he could be in the same room as Malfoy. 

___

Draco heard the knock on his door and knew instantly that it was Potter. It wasn’t that he had been avoiding him all day so much as it was that he was trying to gain some perspective which was hard to do in the presence of Harry Potter; golden, wonder boy and savior of the wizarding world. So yes, I guess one could say that he was dodging the other boy, but only a bit. Draco bit his lip, before he stood up contemplating whether or not to pretend, he wasn’t there, but the pull to be near Potter was stronger than the inner scrutiny of what that meant. 

In three strides Draco was at his door, pulling it open, “what Potter, couldn’t stand to be away from me for a whole day?” he said with a soft half smile, knowing it was as true for him as it was for the other boy. He watched Potter roll his eyes insincerely and meet his soft smile with one of his own, “Oh shove off Malfoy. Now, aren’t you going to invite me in? Where are all those posh manners you’re always on about?” It was Draco’s turn to roll his eyes, but he opened his door wider and stepped to the side to let Potter in, closing the door behind them. 

Draco was already thrumming with heat when he turned to face Potter. He rose his gray eyes up in search of green, and for a moment neither boy spoke, nor moved, they simply stared at one another. Draco was sure his mind was going to shatter into a million pieces at the rate of speed in which he was trying to process the jade color of Potter’s eyes, the disheveled darkness of his hair, and the way his hands ached to reach out and touch. 

His mind was also trying to wrap around the idea of what Potter might be thinking as he stared back at him. Draco knew that Potter was a person of action, and often did things without thinking, and he didn’t know what that meant in terms of Potter’s feelings towards Draco. He wanted to believe action on impulse was a real demonstration of Potter’s innermost desires, but he was also afraid that Potter’s instinct to act before thinking didn’t give him any time to process and determine what he really wanted. 

Before Draco could think about how much time had passed since they had been standing there staring at one another, or how long this inner dialogue he’d been having with himself had persisted Potter had taken two steps forward and reached his palm up to Draco’s face. Their noses a mere centimeter apart, and Potter was looking at him, really looking, a question in his eyes. Draco thought to himself that the other boy looked so earnest, and it made Draco feel brave, brave enough to lift his own palm to Harry’s face and return his deep gaze for only a moment longer before eliminating the centimeter and placing his lips on Harry’s with a groan. 

___

Harry’s heart gave a start as soon as Draco lifted his hand to Harry’s face, and placed his lips on his. It was as if in that moment, the months of gazes, the weeks of soft touches, and moments of whispered confessions and apologies came bursting out of both boys and the two of them knew they could never be put back. Harry returned Draco’s kiss fervently, the hand he had resting on the boy’s cheek skimming up and clasping into his soft silver hair. Draco had moved his hands onto Harry’s shirt, and it was as if he was gripping on for dear life, as the two boys absorbed themselves into one another. Harry’s entire body was on fire, he felt enraptured and captured by the boy standing in front of him. The feeling was terrifying and electrifying all at once, and all Harry knew was that he didn’t want the moment to end. 

___

 

Draco’s mind was a cloudy haze, filled with nothing except dark hair and green eyes, and Harry, just Harry. He knew that he was giving everything he had to the other boy, pouring all the confusion and desire he felt towards him into their kiss. Draco knew he was allowing himself to be in the moment with Harry fully, and to the extent where he couldn’t seem to control the murmuring, whimpering sounds he was allowing to escape his lips as wonder boy kissed him with abandon. Draco felt that it was terrifying and enamoring all at once, and he still didn’t know what it all meant just that he didn’t want it to end. 

But it did end, as all good things do eventually. Both boys broke apart only a fraction breathing heavily, trying to catch their breath. When their eyes met again for the first time, they couldn’t help but to grin widely and burst into a bout of laughter. Draco knew they were both laughing at the audacity of it all, the fact that it was them; Draco Malfoy former death eater, and Harry Potter savior of the wizarding world. The fact that it was them; Malfoy and Potter arch-nemesis’ established 1991 in Madam Malkin’s Robes for all Occasions. The fact that it was them; Harry and Draco friends that engage in prolonged gazing that ultimately leads to snogging. 

Draco was the first one to speak after the laughter had subsided. “I think I might need some time Harry,” and it wasn’t lost on either of them that he had used his actual first name. Draco watched as Harry cast his gaze downwards his lips devoid of the half smile Draco had become so fond of. He took a step back towards the dejected looking boy, “No, it’s not…” Draco let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair before reaching out to take Harry’s hands in his own. “It’s just, I just,” he closed his eyes and took a solid deep breath. He opened his eyes and looked directly into Harry’s before continuing, “It’s for me, it’s not because of you. It’s just, well, I know I’m mad for you Harry,” he said with a timid half smile, his eyes never leaving Harry’s. “I just don’t know what that means, and I know I need to.” 

___

 

Harry left Draco’s room in awe of the other boy, and how staggering he was. He turned and leaned in against the door frame leading into Draco’s room, giving the boy a tender gaze. Draco leaned in against the frame as well and lifted his hand up to smooth a few of the unruly locks of his hair away from his green eyes. Harry leaned his face into Draco’s palm, sighed, and turned his face to kiss the boy’s palm before pulling away. Harry knew this wasn’t saying goodbye, he didn’t think he had the physical or emotional strength to say goodbye to the striking boy in front of him even if he wanted to, which he didn’t. However, he truly respected Draco for having the patience to sort through what this all meant before diving in head first. He supposed that it would force himself to do the same, which he ruminated that he probably needed. 

 

***

After a few days of little to no contact with Draco, Harry was beginning to go stir crazy. Instead of spending his evening curled up in the common room with him per usual, Draco had opted to stayed holed up in his own room. It wasn’t as if Draco was avoiding him completely, he still opted to give Harry little half smiles when he looked towards him in the dining hall or brush his arm up against him when they passed each other in the halls. But this just wasn’t enough to alleviate his craving to be near Draco, to touch him, hear his laugh, talk to him, kiss him…

It was night four alone in the common room, well alone with Hermione and Ron, but bereft of Draco when he finally heard the other boy padding down the dormitory steps. Well, the sound of someone padding down the steps pulled Harry from his fourth night of sulking and he stared longingly at the stairs in the hopes that a lanky blonde would appear. When he did, Harry tried to keep his hammering heart in check as he watched Draco make his way over to him without making eye contact with Harry. 

Harry began to feel the traces of panic outline him when he couldn’t get Draco to meet his eyes. The other boy came and perched himself of the edge of the sofa, thankfully, nearest Harry and finally looked up at him. His eyes appeared sad, and so the traces of panic got bolder and Harry knew he couldn’t keep it hidden from his face. Mercifully, Draco graced him with a signature soft half-lipped smile and slid down between the arm of the sofa and Harry into his normal spot, the spot Harry had left open the last four nights. Draco’s blonde hair slid into his eyes as he peered down into his lap, clutching what Harry now realized was a book. Draco peered back up at Harry timorously, sliding the book that was in his lap into Harry’s hands. Harry looked up at him curiously, a question in his gaze. Draco opened his mouth as if to answer Harry’s unspoken question but abruptly closed it again. 

Harry could tell that Draco was uncertain, and that it had taken a lot for him to simply come down here and place this book in his hands. He peered down at it, “Call Me by Your Name” he read aloud, looking back up at Draco the same question still in his eyes. Draco looked at him a moment longer before weaving his hands through Harry’s and stating earnestly, “just read it Harry.” With that, Draco pulled one of Harry’s hands to his lips, kissed his palm, then retreated up the stairs back to his dorm leaving Harry alone with the latest Draco escape, and the understanding that he would soon be privy to where Draco had spent the last four days and three nights. 

Harry didn’t dare look up at Ron or Hermione with warm pink cheeks, and Draco’s kiss clasped in his palm. 

___

Draco knew he had to get up and face the day, but he was feeling too anxious. Last night Draco had finally gotten the courage to share the book with Harry. He hoped that when he read it, he would understand that Harry was Draco’s Oliver. And now, he was trying to force himself to go downstairs and face the day when he knew that every moment would lead to stolen glances towards Harry wondering where he was and how he felt. Draco finally knew the moment he had finished reading the novel exactly how he felt about Harry, he loved him, he was in love with him. He knew it absolutely and without second thought which was both petrifying and liberating to admit all at once. 

However, when Draco finally made it down to the Great Hall for breakfast Harry’s disheveled hair and bright eyes were nowhere to be found. He tried to resolve himself with the thought that at least he would see him that afternoon in charms class and undertook the rest of his day counting down until then. Although, when Flitwick began the lesson that afternoon Draco looked around the realization that Harry was not there making his stomach flip with anxiety. Surely, Harry wasn’t avoiding him. Even when Draco was immersed in the land of Monet’s beam, and morning swims he had made a point to not avoid Harry. Sure, part of that was due to his lack of restraint and desire to always be near Harry, okay all of it was due to that. 

By the time Charms had ended Draco realized he had not paid attention and had completely missed the lesson, he hurried to catch up with Hermione and Ron hoping to both secure Hermione’s notes from the lesson he had spent agonizing over where Harry was, and to get some sort of positive glimpse into where wonder boy might be. 

___

Harry knew he shouldn’t skip classes; he knew he shouldn’t worry Draco which is exactly what he knew he would be doing if Draco decided to skip a day’s worth of classes leaving him devoid of the other boy’s attention. But he knew he needed, with all of his being, to read the book Draco had given him. Harry mused that the novel itself was not incredibly long, and that if he really put his mind to it could easily finish it all in one sitting. Perhaps he could even be finished by the time Draco returned from classes that afternoon and they could attempt to put their game to rest. 

How wrong Harry was. The story was so intense that he found he needed to take several breaks in between sections of reading, making him realize why it had been four long nights before Draco padded down the stairs to leave the story with him. Reading that particular novel was less an escape and more of a hard look at what had quickly developed between himself and Draco. It was intoxicating and addicting to read inside the mind of someone who was suffering from the same beguiling relationship that he was. Never before had he found himself so engulfed and dependent on a book in his life, and when he was finally finished, he felt that he was almost gasping for air at the intensity of it all. He found that he didn’t want the same ending as Oliver and Elio from the story, he wanted Draco to stay and he wanted to stay. He wanted to face the world and whatever lay before them because he was definitely without a doubt irrevocably in love with Draco Malfoy. 

___

Draco had gone to sleep that night reluctantly. He found himself waiting up, down in the common room long after most students had gone to sleep. Hermione, who was usually last up studying, stood up around midnight and gave Draco a soft smile and a knowing look, “Night Draco, try not to stay up too much longer.” He tried to give her a small smile, but it wasn’t earnest, and he knew she wasn’t stupid. He waited up a little while longer, then resolved that Harry probably wasn’t going to come looking for him that night and told himself that the sooner he went to bed the sooner he could confront Harry the following day. 

***

 

Draco was woken in the middle of the night with a jolt; someone was tapping on his door. Draco reached over to his night stand and felt around for his wand, cast a quick tempus, and groaned at the time; 2:30 am. In his groggy state his mind couldn’t fully connect with who might be waking him at that particular hour. He stumbled over to the door, cracked it open an inch to peak at who was waking him so early in the morning, and then pulled the door fully open and stepped aside to let Harry Potter, boy wonder enter into his room. 

Draco found that he wasn’t entirely awake, if he were, he would certainly be more startled that Harry was there, in his room, in his room at 2:30am to be precise. Draco watched with his back pressed against his closed bedroom door as Harry strode over to Draco’s bed and sat down on the edge, finally looking up at him with eyes so bright he could name them jade in the dark of night. For the first time since he opened the door, and realized it was Harry, Draco began to feel nervous. 

“Come here Draco,” Harry spoke, shattering the silence so softly but with such a gentle disposition that Draco could do nothing but comply, not that anything could keep him from the other boy anyways. Draco pushed off the door and settled himself opposite Harry, their knees brushing as he sat down. Afraid to look up, for fear of what he might see in the other boy’s eyes, Draco took a deep breath, sat back leaning on his hands, and somehow found the courage to meet Harry’s green eyes. 

That was all it took, in a rush and haze of dark hair and bright green eyes Harry was clasped to him. Draco instantly wrapped one arm around Harry clenched like a snake up and around his back, while his other hand stroked through the dark locks tangling himself there as he pulled the other boy’s head back to desperately meet his lips. He couldn’t stop the soft and needy groan that escaped his lips, all fear of Harry not wanting him long forgotten. The only coherent thoughts he truly had were of lips, and teeth, and oh fuck, tongues, and hands. 

___

The instant the other boy sat beside him and their knees brushed Harry knew he was done for, acting on impulse as he always seemed to do, he launched himself at silver hair and onyx gray eyes, losing himself in an instant. 

Harry could only think about how he wanted to be closer to Draco, which seemed almost impossible as they were pressed together and clinging on to one another as though they were the other’s source of oxygen, both gasping and heaving as they clung still tighter. 

Harry was lost completely in the other boy, thinking that his wildest thoughts and fantasies couldn’t have dreamt up what it felt like to have Draco sucking and nipping on his lips. Harry was almost shaking from the pure intoxication of it all, and having Draco rolled up into his arms, sighing and moaning, and gasping at Harry’s every touch of his skin, every bite and suck of his lips, and every sound that he made. Everything he did seemed to spur Draco on which only encouraged him further, never once in his life had he ever thought he would come in his pants from snogging, and snogging Draco Malfoy at that, but fuck if this was the first. 

___

Draco knew he was wound pretty tightly; he knew that he had spent most of the term wishing to be invisible and calculating most of his moves with his past in mind. But with Harry, in this moment he knew he wasn’t thinking. With Harry he could just let go, and feel, and be alive, and shit if he didn’t feel alive. His whole body was on fire his only focus on touching and kissing and sucking anywhere on Harry he could get his hands or mouth on. He felt like a man dying of thirst, and Harry was a vast lake that he wanted nothing more than to drown in. 

Draco dragged both his hands up to Harry’s face and pulled him from his lips, now swollen deliciously from all the snogging. He looked into the other boys hazy, bright green eyes and groaned audibly, without shame. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me Harry, fuck,” he spoke aloud to the other boy for the first time since their game of touches began. He could feel his own cheeks heat at his brash honesty and leaned his forehead against Harry’s for balance. Harry reach up and grasped Draco’s face in his hands as well, and there they were two boys completely gone for one another holding each other’s faces in their hands just trying to hold on. 

Both boys were breathing heavily, Draco moved his hands from Harry’s face down to hold onto his wrists looking up into those green eyes and attempting to convey all his feelings for the other boy with one intense gaze as he clung to Harry’s wrists. Apparently, it was Harry’s turn to let out a loud groan, “Shit, Draco, ughh, you’re going to be the death of me,” he stated as he pulled Draco’s lips back to his own, and pulled them both back, so that they were laying down on their sides on Draco’s bed as they snogged the life from one another. 

___

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck’….Harry knew he wasn’t typically brilliant with words anyways, but he knew he was shit now. He ran his hand from Draco’s face down his neck, and to the hem of his shirt and felt the other boy shiver, in turn making his own skin prickle. He hesitated for only a moment, before again letting his boldness overtake him, and sliding a hand under Draco’s t-shirt and over the soft warm skin of his stomach. Harry lost himself trailing along all the bumps and ridges, dragging his fingers through the line of hair running from Draco’s navel to the edge of his pajama pants and could feel himself blush furiously as Draco made a noise so sensuous, he thought he would burst just from hearing it. 

And just when Harry thought he truly could handle no more, Draco rolled them both so that gray eyes were looking down at him from under silver fringe and his body was wedged between Harry’s thighs in a way that allowed Harry to feel just how hot Draco Malfoy was for him. It was his turn to groan and pull Draco’s mouth to his hungrily one hand sliding behind Draco’s head and winding through his hair, and the other hair sliding down his back, and up underneath his shirt skimming over all Draco’s soft and ultra-sensitive skin before clasping onto his shoulder to anchor him. 

___

Draco honestly didn’t know how much longer he was going to last. It felt like every single shoulder brush, and lingering touch from the last few weeks had built up to this moment and now he was a tingling mess, and he felt like an overworked school boy who was about to come in his fucking pants, and from snogging, no less. 

Harry had his arm up Draco’s shirt and he was grasping onto his shoulder as though his life depended on it, and the room was filled with little gasps, and keening sounds, and Draco never knew if the sounds belonged to him or Harry, he only knew that they were both guilty, not that he was complaining about it. 

But Draco wanted more, he wanted anything Harry would give him, he was high on the boy beneath him, who had precipitously started thrusting up against him, and suddenly Draco could feel just how badly Harry wanted him. It made him so hot and shaky he let out what felt like an involuntary groan and without thinking thrust back against Harry’s own equally hard cock. With that, both boys were done, any attempt at holding back was lost and they were kissing and touching with abandon. Draco let out another shaky moan as both boys rutted against each other and buried his face in Harry’s neck breathing heavily in the other boy’s ear. 

Harry was yanking on Draco’s hair almost painfully as he brought Draco out from the safety of Harry’s neck and rested his forehead against his own, looking into his eyes. Neither of them said anything, they just looked at each other breathing heavily, their eyes saying everything they couldn’t in that moment as they touched and rubbed against each other. “Fuck,” Draco breathed out after a moment of silence squeezing his eyes closed at the intensity of it all. “I know this isn’t my finest hour, but you’re going to make me come if we keep this up Harry,” Draco said opening his eyes back up to gaze down at wonder boy. 

Harry let out a groan, as he met Draco’s gaze, “I’ve been thinking the same thing since you rolled on top of me,” Harry half laughed half groaned out through gritted teeth, and a soft half smile.

“yeah?” said Draco doused in a haze of lust, as he thrust forward a little more intently, earning himself a full moan from Harry.  
___

“Draco,” he let spill from his lips in a moan, he couldn’t even hold them back anymore. He knew he was close to coming, and the fact that Draco had admitted the same only made him all the more determined. He wanted to see that blonde head in front of him thrown back in ecstasy, with his name on the boy’s lips as he let go. 

Harry found himself clinging to Draco more deeply, pulling his head back so he could lose himself in the skin on Draco’s neck and collarbone thoroughly enjoying the noises it elicited from the boy rocking himself above him. He knew they were both close, he could feel it in the way they both had become more frantic, more desperate against each other. Draco brought his hands back up to Harry’s face, fingers digging into Harry’s cheeks and neck, “I’m gonna come Harry.” 

That was all it took for him, Harry felt himself nodding feverishly as if in response to the most erotic thing he had ever heard grace Draco Malfoy’s lips, and began rutting against the other boy more earnestly eliciting a string of moans from both of them. 

“Harry,” Draco bit out in a strangled groan, “Harry, I’m..I’m.. FUCK.” Draco’s head was thrown back, his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth hung open, and Harry thought he was fucking gorgeous.

Draco fisted his hand into Harry’s hair yanking his lips up to his and bit down on his bottom lip, and Harry came. Hard. He cried out and clung on to the boy above him losing himself and burying his face into his neck as Draco collapsed onto him in a sweaty and heaving heap, both boys gasping steadily for air out of breath. 

___

Draco rolled over off of Harry, facing him on his side. His face began to heat at the realization of what they had just done, and how little it took for the brunette in front of him to make him lose all control. Harry rolled onto his side and propped himself up to face Draco, a lazy grin on his face full of hazy bliss. The sight made Draco’s heart beat fast, and his stomach clench with affection for the goofy, bold, brilliant boy. Draco couldn’t stop himself from meeting Harry’s own grin with one of his own and reaching his hand out to weave his fingers through Harry’s as they laid there still catching their breath. 

“I read the book,” Harry stated aloud as if it were the only logical statement one could make after sharing a moment like that with a former enemy, turned, friend, turned…lover? Draco couldn’t say for sure, but the twisting of knots in his gut told him that’s what he was hoping for. He looked up at Harry, with eyes that he knew were not hiding in the slightest how he felt about the disheveled boy in front of him. 

“Yeah?” Draco spoke, he wasn’t confident he could really say anything else quite as steadily. “Yeah.” Harry spoke, and gazed at him eyes filled with the same emotions that filled Draco’s. “I don’t want to have the same ending as that story, I don’t want you to leave Draco.” 

“Harry,” Draco started, “I’m, I’m Elio, I’m too hung up on you to ever go anywhere, I’m in love with you” he breathed out quietly, feeling as if he were the bold one for once and daring himself to face his feelings head on, wanting Harry to see him fully as he was. “So, I’m Oliver then?” he said with almost a cheeky grin, pulling their joined hands to his mouth and kissing Draco’s fingertips. “Listen Draco, just to be clear the whole time I was reading I pictured myself as Elio, meaning I’m mad for you too” Harry said in almost a huff. Then almost as if for good measure added, “You know I’m not going anywhere, I’m in love with you too” paired with a pointed look that left Draco aching. 

___

Harry’s mind was reeling. He was in love with Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy was in love with him. He stared at the blonde in front of him, and after a moment of gazing pulled him close, tucked him into his chest, and kissed his head sighing. After a moment, he felt the other boy nuzzle in closer and wrap his arm around Harry’s chest and stretch up to place a kiss to his shoulder. 

Harry knew that both boys had a lot to face, that their relationship would never be easy, but he also knew that it would never be boring and that he had never wanted something to last so fiercely. Tomorrow they would have to face Ron and Hermione, then possibly Draco’s mum, then the rest of the wizarding world. However, he knew they had time, they didn’t have to rush, and that honestly none of it really mattered as much as holding the boy in his arms. They belonged to one another now, and Harry knew that he was more than okay with that, and the thought would always leave him aching and desperate for the silver haired boy who had once been his enemy. 

Both boys spent the rest of the morning wrapped in one another, rolling around in Draco’s bed, teasing one another, and laughing. Whispering into the fresh hours of dawn in debate over who had realized they loved the other first, and who hid it better. They shared their aching feelings about the book and what it made them realize about themselves and about each other, and vowed to never forget about summers in Italy, Monet’s beam, and how they were both Elio but to Draco, Harry would always be his Oliver. 

___

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Tumblr](https://kelsey-inwonderland.tumblr.com) <3


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